Chapter Text

When In Custody...

Part 1

Helicarrier

The usually calm, collected Maria Hill wanted to bang her head against the closest wall. Her superior, Nick Fury, had recently been wounded in some stupid incident and the Council had named her as his temporary replacement. The job itself didn't scare her; after all, she was the Director's right hand and had dealt with her share of crap. After all, who took care of the unfinished business when Fury ran around the world after Iron Man or Hulk or whatever superhero he could find? No, what was really threatening to become a massive headache was the phone call she had received two minutes ago from Agent Coulson, the handler of two of SHIELD's best agents. Both the Black Widow and Hawkeye had been compromised.

Hill sighed heavily and rubbed her temple. It was supposed to be a random, easy mission. Five targets in the area of Sacramento, and five ruthless gang leaders to take out within three weeks. The pair was good at what they did, especially together, so it should have gone smoothly. But then, who could have anticipated the emergence of a serial killer in the area? Who could have predicted that Target #5 would be murdered by said serial killer? And who could have known that both Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton of all people would be spotted by the local police and FBI (the freaking BAU nonetheless!) and taken into custody!!!

The usual extraction was completely out of order; the agents were not in a battle or a life-threatening situation and knocking off a bunch of cops and feds would only lead to a disaster. She couldn't exactly call the FBI hierarchy to release them ether. While both assassins worked for the government, they were… well, still criminals. Technically, former criminals with erased records, but that didn't always suit well with those guys. Plus, she resented owing favors to people she hardly knew. Also, SHIELD was a strictly need-to-know kind of Agency, and pulling strings could make both the locals and the FBI very curious and they could start asking the wrong sort of questions.

The woman leaned back in her seat and breathed in deeply. Coulson had promised to call her the moment he had more information but Hill knew he could only do so much. She turned towards her computer screen and started digging for more information on the investigation. She needed an idea to get them out of there the legal way without alerting the big guns, and she needed it fast.

 

Lodi police HQ

It was just another case, filled with murders and suspects and endless interrogations, but Emily Prentiss was getting really tired. Ten people murdered in twenty days, with no relation by gender, age, race or social position. The locals had called them in five days ago, and they were still going nowhere. The profile had been changed twice already, and that bastard was still leaving nothing behind. Since their arrival, he had left two other bodies and according to his pattern, would be killing again within the next six hours. So when she got a call informing her that two suspects had been arrested, a twinge of hope rose in her chest. They looked good, Morgan had said without going into details. Hopefully, she thought as she entered the parking lot, they were onto a lead. Their profile hadn't included a partnership, but this unknown subject (or 'unsub') was so unpredictable that she would hardly be surprised if their one person turned out to be two.

“The manager of a nearby hotel confirmed the presence of a couple.” Jennifer Jarreau, aka JJ, briefed upon her arrival. “Very discreet, but charming; a little too quiet, according to him. When we got there and asked to do a little search, they weren't exactly pleased...but then, I wouldn’t be either if the FBI busted me holding a backpack filled with guns. Lab is running for fingerprints as we speak.”

“You got an ID?” the brunette asked as they both moved in the room on the other side of the two-way glass interrogation room.

“Papers say their names are Ellen Rogers and Justin Baker, but Garcia didn't find anything concrete to support it yet.” They entered the room, already occupied by Reid and a local PD and JJ lowered her voice: “Hotch wants to make her wait a bit before attacking.”

Prentiss nodded and stared at their first suspect. A beautiful redhead, dressed in a plain black pair of jeans and black tank top, was walking around the room, arms crossed and sighing heavily. She appeared to be in her late twenties, or early thirties, tops, and very shapely. Totally the type of girl Morgan would go after in a bar, she couldn't help but think with an inside smirk. Surprisingly though, the woman did not seem nervous, just severely pissed off. Not in the I-got-caught-red-handed-by-the-feds kind of pissed though. More like...I'm-wasting-my-time-in-here. Before she could pry for further info, their unit Chief appeared in the door frame. The moment he spotted Prentiss, he motioned for her to follow him. They walked in silence to another room -the second observatory room, she supposed- and he pushed the door to let her in. When she stepped in and saw the suspect sitting on the other side of the mirror...

Oh shit.

The redheaded woman wasn't familiar to her, but the dirty blond-headed man sitting across from Rossi definitively was. Even though she had put that part of her life behind her nine years ago, she would never forget the hard-ass stare of Clint Barton, alias Hawkeye from SHIELD...

Double shit.

“I don't think they'll be talking.” Morgan said, crossing his arms as he stood beside her, oblivious to her shock. Prentiss blinked quickly, forcing her mind to follow her partner's words.
“We just have to try something else.” Hotch muttered in turn, staring at Barton hard. “He doesn't react to Rossi. I want you to take the lead later.” he added, turning towards Prentiss. “Maybe he'll be more cooperative with a feminine presence.”

That still won't work, the woman thought. She had no freaking clue about the woman, but knowing the training agents got at SHIELD...this was no interrogation in the assassin's agenda. This was a walk through kindergarten park...Unfortunately, Prentiss knew how determined her team worked. Heck, had she not been aware of Barton's job, she would have considered his behavior -or lack thereof- entirely suspicious. And even then, she knew his style; their unsub's killings were bloody messy while his shots were clear and clean. Plus, if Barton had been caught with this woman, then there was a high probability that she belonged to SHIELD as well...If he still belonged, she suddenly thought.

When she was still an agent there, Barton had his little reputation and didn't seem particularly bothered by his lifestyle. Had it stayed the same, or had he had enough and quit like she had? Prentiss cursed inwardly; she couldn't walk in and ask the questions she wanted to, nether could she contact SHIELD...they hadn't exactly left their calling card upon her departure and that was definitively not something she could research on the net. She held back a heavy sigh; she needed a sign, something to tell her whether she should discreetly try and help them out with an alibi or leave things as they were...

As if on cue, her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She checked the number -unknown- apologized to the others in the room and headed into the bullpen.

“Prentiss” she said as she picked up and was only half-surprised to hear a long-time, familiar voice answer: “This is Maria Hill. It's been a while, Emily.”

 

“It sure has” Prentiss acknowledged with a nod to herself. She glanced around her and when she was certain no-one was paying attention to her, walked out the front door. She turned into a corner, in an isolated street where no-one could approach unnoticed. “I assume you are not calling for a catch-up chat.” A heavy sigh was half her answer.

“Laurence Marshal was a target.” Hill started, naming their latest victim. “Unfortunately, your killer got to him before they did. Wrong place, wrong time, and now you have two of our best agents in custody facing charges for a crime they did not commit.”

“Kinda ironic.” Prentiss pointed out with a smirk. “So Barton is still working for you guys. Who is his lovely partner?” There was a slight pause on Hill's side.

“I tend to forget you left while he was still on that mission.” she muttered. “Remember his target at the time? When he left for Paris to take down that Russian assassin?” The FBI agent frowned, searching in her memory.

“Yeah I think...didn't she have a spider codename or something? Tarantella or...”

“Black Widow.”

“Yeah, that one. What about it?” When Hill didn't answer, mostly to let her work things out, Prentiss had a vague idea. “Wait a moment, are you telling me that...” The amazement turned into a snort of bemusement: “He didn't actually talk her into joining...did he?”

“She's been his partner on and off for the past six years.” The brunette burst out laughing.

“Jesus, only he would pull a stunt like that! I bet the big boss wasn't happy about it.” she heard Hill chuckle, remembering the expression on Fury's face. That day, the man had earned his last name. “Jokes and memories aside, what's the problem?”

“You know the goddamn problem, Emily, two agents in custody. That must be the first in SHIELD's history.”

“What is Fury's say in this?” Prentiss asked, ignoring the snappy tone of her former colleague. Hill sighed.

“He's on medical leave, but he'd probably throw a fit. I'm dealing with this right now.”

The FBI agent blinked. Maria Hill, the reserved but brilliant newbie who was barely twenty-one when she integrated SHIELD was now THE Director's replacement? Prentiss vaguely wondered if she should be surprised...after all, the young woman had shown a bright, solid and intelligent mind since the early days.

“Wow. Congratulations.”

“Believe me, right now I wish he was there.” Hill's tone turned more serious and Prentiss knew she meant business. “I need your help, Emily. I can't send agents in case it interferes with the investigation and I don't want to implicate higher-ups. Not that they'd give a damn anyway.”

“I get it. What do you need?”

“How suspicious are the police about them?”

“Honestly, it's not looking good. My teammates caught them with a bag of guns and other weapons; although now that you mention it, I doubt it's theirs. I don't know much more...I was on an interview when they were arrested. They should be released if a new murder occurred, but they'd have to hold on until then. I can always try to help them remember an alibi or something but I can't guarantee my team will buy it.”

“Great.” Prentiss smirked; only Maria Hill would make 'great' sound like an F-bomb. “And before you ask, they have official covers and ID.”

“Make sure it is well done, because we have one of the best hackers on our side. A very curious hacker.”

“I'll keep a close eye on that.” Hill assured. God forbid if Garcia ever found out who they really were...“I'll try to find some background picture or documents that can be used to support their cover.” There was a pause. “Is there anything I can do to help you solve this case in return?”

“Maybe, I'll have to check a few things first though. How can I contact you?”

“I'll keep in contact. And permanent contact. Agent Coulson will meet up with you and give you the earpiece-communicators we use on missions. I'll be able to hear you and speak to you if needed. Remember Agent Coulson by the way?”

“I might have left nine years ago, but I did stay for five.” Prentiss reminded her, ignoring the light flutter in her chest at the name. “And of course I remember...” she let her voice trail off as she sensed someone approaching. “We worked together before he became birdie's babysitter.”

Hill immediately picked up the lack of names and the tone of her voice.

“I take it you are no longer alone?”

“I gotta go back to work. Just tell me when you set up the meeting with that guy.”

“Do you have pockets?”

“What do you mean, I need a jacket?”

“You'll have the communicators when you get back; Coulson is nearby the police building, he'll bump into you and slip them in there. Just make sure you take the front door.”

“Fine.”

“Oh and Emily? Once this is done, you might want to buy a new phone.”

“Figures.” the FBI agent snorted, the corner of her lips tugging upwards. “You owe me one.”

“I know. Talk to you later.”

“Bye.” Prentiss said before hanging up and turning towards the newcomer. True to her instincts, Hotch was standing a few feet away, staring at her with a mixture of annoyance and worry. Knowing him, he would have noticed her absence and decided that she must have a good reason for deserting her post.

“Everything all right?”

“Sure” she assured with a half-smile. Hotch frowned, not quite believing her, but she held onto her mask firmly. This was something she actually dreaded, holding onto the mask. Hiding her motives from the locals would be easy. Deceiving her team, harder, but she had managed with the Doyle situation before -even if Morgan had felt something was going on. The one person she feared would catch onto her act was Aaron Hotchner. Since her return from the dead, they had grown closer and sometimes, tip-toed around the line of friendship and more. He could figure her out like no-one else, and vice versa. Lying to him, even for the sort of right reasons would be a pain and something she was not quite comfortable with. But telling him would not be an option; because Aaron Hotchner might sometimes understand or feel for a criminal, but he would absolutely condemn an assassin, friend or foe.

Oh yeah, Prentiss thought as she followed him back to the bullpen, Maria Hill owed her one. A big one.

Chapter Text

 

When In Custody...

 

Part 2

 

Worst..mission..ever. Barton sighed in boredom after the old Italian guy closed the door on his way out. Seriously, this screw-up must have shot to top rank in SHIELD's history. Natasha and he had been caught like rookies, and even rookies would never let themselves being taken in so quickly and so stupidly.What had he been thinking, picking up that backpack and digging into it without checking if it really belonged to his partner as he had first believed? Nat would definitively have his hide once they were out. Not that she'd ban him from their bed -she refused to punish herself, she told him once- but she'd definitively find something to make him pay. Subtle or not. That is, if they stepped out of this police station without facing charges. By now, Coulson must have given the alert and he and Hill would be working a way out. Somehow, Barton preferred having Hill on this one; she was, in his opinion, much more cool-headed and subtle than Fury at times. Not that he didn't dread the aftermath, she was way scarier than the Director when seriously pissed...

The archer sighed and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head. He vaguely wondered how Natasha was doing on her end, if she had managed not to kill her first interrogator, and if she had regurgitated the pathetic background story Hill or whoever was responsible for their cover had made up. Because he, sure as hell, would never narrate the wonderful love escapade of a rich heiress with her bodyguard. Fine, he and Nat were ten or so years apart in age and she was a gorgeous woman -you had to be blind or gay not to notice it and he as sure did- an amazing actress who could make anyone swallow bullshit, but couldn't they find something less...romantic?

The door opened again, interrupting his thoughts, and the last person he expected to see here entered the room.

Emily Prentiss. Emily-freaking-Prentiss. Emily-freaking-Prentiss holding a file, her trademark deadpan expression on her face and an FBI badge showing on her belt. If he wasn't so well-trained to master his emotions in every possible situation, his jaw would have dropped on the ground in astonishment.

“Mr. Baker” she greeted coldly, taking the seat the other guy had left a little bit earlier. “I am Agent Prentiss.”

No, really? Barton almost blurted sarcastically, before biting back his tongue. It had been nine years since he had last seen her and while he would never forget her face, he didn't know if she remembered him. The subtle move of her lips, mouthing 'Barton' answered him, and he felt a pang of anger rise within. He couldn’t help this resentment. They were nowhere close to being best buddies at the time, but the woman had been Phil's partner and had the nerve to leave while they were on a mission, not even bothering to say good-bye. So yeah, he couldn't help the urge to glare at her, hard. She pointed a camera in the far angle of the room. “For your safety and our own, this interview will be recorded. Agent Rossi must have told you so already.”

Her face might be impassible and uninterested, but her eyes told him a different story. She was staring intensely, as if trying to pass a message or make him understand something. Barton pushed away the pang of resentment and focused on the situation; he was, after all, suspected to be a banal serial killer and she, an interrogator. Didn't mean he wouldn't try to annoy the hell out of her. So, he slowly uncrossed his arms from behind his head, leaned forwards, and whispered:

"что ты собака здесь возлюбленной?" What are you doing here sweetheart?

Prentiss rose a perfect eyebrow, and he was gleeful at the hint of annoyance in her eyes, and she replied hesitantly (her Russian was more than a little rusty):

"Я только не говори России" I not alone understand Russian.

Barton bit back a bark of laughter; Nat would have killed her on the spot for butchering her mother-tongue with that accent. “Now if you would stop the screwing around, open your goddamn ears and listen to every word I say.”

The brusque snappiness caught his attention and when she put a stray hair back in place, he noted the two small taps her finger made against her ear and another mouthing: Hill. So the female agent had managed to slip ears and, if she hacked the camera, eyes in the room. Barton should have expected her to call upon old friends and not use SHIELD's odd system with the FBI. The archer totally approved, although he would have preferred someone else than that woman to help them out.

“Now, Mr Baker, tell me what you were and Miss Rogers were doing in that hotel room.”

Eyes flashed in warning; don't screw with me, I'm trying to help you out. He shrugged; fine.

“What do you expect a man and a woman to do in a hotel room?”

She didn't bite the bait, instead opened her file and showed five pictures of crime scenes. Barton frowned at them; damn, even his first kill didn't look so messy. He clenched his fists in anger at the sight of an opened-stomached little boy and a particularly dismembered young woman. For a second, he didn't envy her job; the guy they were looking for was a bloody monster, nothing more, nothing less...and she had to run against time to catch him.

“Let me put things this way; every two days, a body is found dead near a dumpster. This has been going on for twenty days; do the math.” Pause. “According to the manager of her hotel, you have been lodging there for twenty days, barely moving out, just at night.” Her gaze was insistent, wanting him to understand why they were suspected, and giving him a way to find the crack, the something that would give them an alibi instead of wasting time waiting for another body to surface. Her move would probably be futile, since she was pretty sure they wouldn't leave a trail behind, but she still had to try. “When my team ran into your room, they found you holding a backpack filled with weapons. The same weapons that killed ten people. Now unless you really want me to charge you and your girlfriend with murder, you’d better start talking now.”

Barton had to admit, her intense glare was still intimidating and would have coaxed an immediate response from a lesser man. But Barton was no lesser man and held her stare defiantly. He had not given in for that Agent Rossi, he didn't want her to gain what he'd consider an easy victory from him even if she was on his side. At least, not in front of her teammates.

“κάθε Έλληνα ηχεία?" Any Greek speakers? he eventually asked. Prentiss narrowed her eyes, but he spotted the relief in them.

“μόνο εμένα. Τι μπορείτε να μου πείτε?" Only me. What can you tell me? she kept her tone smooth and professional, as she usually would for any interview.

“The bag was there when we arrived. I thought it was Nat's. Dunno who could have placed it there, unless it was the manager; he has doubles of every key in the hotel, as far as I know.”

“I'll check out his alibi and his employees'. What else?”

“A junkie was stalking Nat earlier and she broke his wrist.” Prentiss held back a smirk and started scrubbing down a few words. “The waitress at the coffee shop was way too friendly. As far as I know, we didn't get on anyone's radar.”

“I still need a list of names in case. People you met here you might have annoyed...anyone you found suspect.”

Barton sighed heavily and reluctantly picked up the pen she handed him.

“Also, speak the names of the people who might have recognized you during the mission.”

The archer raised an eyebrow before remembering that Hill was also listening. He paused, thought for a few seconds, then slowly listed two names.

“Anything else I should be aware of?” she asked, back in English.

“Je te hais toujours autant?" I still hate you? he offered in French.

“M'en serais doutée" Figured as much. she retorted dryly, picking up the list he had wrote before adding in Greek: “Anyway, any tips about how I should approach your girlfriend to let her know I'm not potential target practice?”

 

 

“What was that?” Hotch asked the moment she stepped out of the interrogation room. Prentiss rolled her eyes and faced her unit chief; she knew he wouldn't like it.

“What was what?”

“The aggressive tone. This exchange. The whole thing was in...what language were you talking anyway?”

“Greek. And I doubt he would have answered any of my questions if I hadn't played along. He claims the bag was there when they arrived, has no idea who could have put it there and I think he was sincere. These,” She offered her Unit Chief the list of names before continuing: “are people they met the last twenty days that sounded odd to him. Hotch, I'd like to take the lead for the woman if it's okay.” It sounded more like an order, but none of her colleagues pointed it out.

“Reid will go with you.” That was definitively an order. “I'll send the names to Garcia. Take a few minutes if you need.” The man hesitated, before nodded; “Even though I don't like being left out of the conversation, good job so far.”

To anyone else, he was praising her. To her and maybe Rossi, he was warning her to make the suspect speak as much English as possible. While she didn't like the look in his eyes, Prentiss carefully masked her annoyance and nodded, but knew she'd have to ignore the order if the other agent decided to play the same game. Damn, she thought as she headed to the kitchen to pour herself a coffee, playing this was really tiring. Why did she agree to help Hill in the first place anyway? She hadn't hesitated a second, hadn't considered the effect on her team if her involvement was revealed. They already had a hard time dealing with Doyle, how would they react to this?

Prentiss poured the hot liquid in a cup and started stirring. SHIELD's matters were not what they dealt with every day. As far as she knew, her team had no idea about the advanced technology, the under- cover operations and resulting experiments the agency dealt with. Heck, even she hadn't believed the Super Soldier project had concluded until she had accidentally seen the footages of Captain America in action. No, she reasoned, their job was to find killers and put them behind bars; they weren't ready to face another world in such little time. And even if they did, that would probably still not help Barton and his partner's case...

“Well that went better than expected.” Hill spoke up.

The agent choked on her coffee, caught off guard; she had completely forgotten about the communicators.

“Can't really talk right now” she muttered, hiding the movement of her lips by pretending to drink.

“Sorry. I just wanted to let you know that Barton's names are worthless. The two guys left the country right after their boss was found dead.”

So nothing to work on so far, Prentiss thought, taking another sip. She really hoped the names Barton listed could help, or that –what-was-her-name already? Black Widow? When Barton had mentioned his partner, he had called her 'Nat'...Nathalie? Natasha?- had more helpful information. Unless another body showed up; that would be a definite way to scratch them off the suspect list. But if the bag of weapons did belong to the murderer, then they were getting startled...

Morgan interrupted her thoughts when he barged in, waving his cell phone:

“Garcia has a background for our suspects; you're not going to believe this; Ellen Rogers is actually the heiress of a huge company owned by some guy named Nicolas Rogers in Norway and Baker? He's her bodyguard.” Prentiss spit her coffee and ended up coughing hard to cover her laugh. Nic-olas? An heiress and her bodyguard? No wonder why Barton refused to talk...could this be more cliché?

“For your information, I didn't come up with that one.” Hill pointed out.

“Betcha” Prentiss muttered before adding at Morgan's startled glance: “Sorry. I haven't heard that one in a while.” At his even more puzzled look, she shrugged. “Never mind. What else?”

At this point, the rest of the team plus a few more policemen had gathered around. Morgan returned to his news delivery:

“None of them have a criminal record, although Baker had been registered in the army before becoming a bodyguard. The lady has a few speeding tickets, but nothing out of the ordinary.” Prentiss waited for an indication that more had been uncovered. “Our technical analyst is still digging and she'll call if she finds anything.” He turned towards the brunette and added quickly: “Nothing came out of the guy's list. I know you think they have nothing to do with this, but I wouldn't scratch them out of the suspects list yet.”

The woman nodded her understanding. The small crowd dissolved and Prentiss hurriedly walked to the sink to wash her mug. She didn't hear Hotch approaching until he spoke:

“Emily?” the woman jumped and nearly broke her cup. “Sorry” he added with an apologetic grimace. Prentiss shook her head and resumed her previous activity.

“All good Hotch. What is it?”

“I'd like to apologize for earlier.” she glanced at him from the corner of her eyes. “I know you are trying your best and I don't want to stop you from doing your job.”

Damn, he was unintentionally doing the puppy-pleading eyes and using that patronizing tone again. The sincerity in his voice made her feel guilty; yes, she was trying her best, but not in favor of finding their criminal.

“It's okay Hotch, this case is wearing us all. I'll be glad when it's done.” She put the cup on the side and turned back, intending to head back to the bullpen. Hotch didn't move away, but crossed his arms.

“You look upset...Are you sure you're all right?”

Give the man a gold star, Prentiss thought. She really hated lying to profilers.

“I'm just a bit tired” she assured him gently with her trademark half-smile. “But thanks, I had the remedy” she added, nodding towards her drying cup of coffee. His shoulders relaxed slightly, apparently satisfied with the answer.

“Okay. You should take a break when we get back.” He hesitated, glanced around to check if anyone was eavesdropping, then added more quietly: “Jack's been dying to see you. I know what you told him last time you babysat him, but he's really excited to hear from you soon.”

The mention of the six-year old made her smile. A twisted part of her mind pressured her to use that subject to drive the man's attention aside.

“I promised him a day at the zoo with his daddy.” she replied, her gaze slowly drawing into his. “If it's no bother with you...”

“Not at all.” Hotch assured, staring right back at her, and she felt a light shiver running down her spine; why did he have to have such intense eyes? The case was slowly slipping out of her mind, too busy contemplating them. Some noise in the background efficiently broke the spell. Hotch cleared his throat uneasily. “I'd...I'd be glad.” The light blush on his cheeks was adorable. “Eh...let's talk about this later?”

“Sure. Uh, later.” She felt her skin flush as she walked away.

“Flirting with your boss during work time? Who are you and what have you done with Emily Prentiss?” Hill's voice woke her up. Prentiss cleared her throat and muttered a discreet: “Oh shut up.” before heading towards the interrogation room, where an ex-Russian assassin was waiting for her.

 

 

Dr Spencer Reid prided himself in having a vast knowledge of things; although he disliked the term genius, he enjoyed having an eidetic memory and reminding it to Morgan, he liked the simple thrills of learning and using his bright mind to catch criminals. One thing he did not enjoy though, was being choked from behind by an arm belonging to an unexpectedly strong, albeit beautiful woman, suspected of being implicated in the murder of ten people including children.

He had walked in the interrogation room after being given the green light by Hotch, knowing Emily would be joining him soon. He had asked Ellen Rogers politely to sit down so the interrogation could start, just to gain control of the situation. The redhead was irritated and unnerved and he needed her calmer. But she had started to fuss and curse in various languages and when she had briefly turned her back to him and he had tried to reach out in attempt to calm her...

“Don't touch me!” she hissed in his ear, tightening her arm around his neck so he could barely breathe. The door of the interrogation room banged open as three agents barged in, all holding guns pointed at her. Reid was never so glad to see his Chief Unit, Rossi and JJ.

“Let him go” Hotch ordered threateningly. The genius felt her tense slightly behind, but she still didn't release him. “Let him go now.”

“Put your weapons down.” she replied firmly, and Reid had the odd, nasty feeling she had said these words before. “Or I will...”

“Do twist his neck and you will hit the floor faster than a rocket ball.” Prentiss had entered the room in turn, gun still holstered but unhooked and ready to shoot. Ignoring her colleagues, she took a few steps closer and paused a few feet away from Reid. Ellen Rogers’ arm tightened even more around his neck, effectively preventing him from breathing and the genius wondered a brief second what the heck the brunette was thinking. “I know you are upset but killing a FBI agent isn't going to get you out of this spider's web. Now, stop acting like a bird in cage and let my friend go.”

A millisecond went by, and Reid felt the pressure lessen. Just like that, he knew that somehow, the brunette had taken control of the situation.

“Tell your friends then to take down their guns and skinny kid is free.”

The young man saw Prentiss nod to the guys without leaving them out of her sight. Weapons were lowered and positions relaxed when Reid got free of his former position. Coughing slightly, he tumbled towards the brunette who held him with an arm.

“Are you ready for the interview?” she asked him calmly. Their eyes met and he was surprised to see a determined, hard stare instead of worry: Stand up and do it. I need you to back me up.There was no asking about how he felt or if he wanted a break. She was expecting him to sit next to her and continue as if nothing had happened.

“Prentiss...” Hotch started, clearly disapproving, but Reid waved him his agreement. If the brunette judged he should not get out now, then so be it.

“I'm fine.” his hoarse voice hinted otherwise, so he cleared his throat and repeated firmer: “I'm fine. Seriously guys.”

The rest of the team reluctantly left the room but Reid knew they'd be on the other side, waiting for any sign of disturbance to intervene. That was a reassuring thought.

“This is quite the team you have.” the redhead stated. The young man held back the urge to squirm at her voice, but still forced himself to face the beautiful, now expressionless face of their suspect and smiled warily.

“Just like your partner and yourself.” Prentiss replied dryly before moving towards the table and mentioning the chair before Ellen Rogers. “Now Miss Rogers, lets not have a repeat and let's do this. The earlier we start, the earlier we're done and maybe daddy Nick won't be so furious when you're back.”

Apparently, mentioning the lady's father did the trick. The redhead grimaced but obeyed unhurriedly. Reid did notice that Prentiss made sure they seated at the exact same time. He wondered if she just didn't want to startle her by moving so slowly, but then, something in both women's gaze made him shiver; they were staring at each other defiantly, tensely, carefully, as if facing an imminent threat.

“Dr. Reid?” Prentiss called, and he realized he was still standing up. He quickly took his place by her side and faced their suspect again. He had to admit, he would have never suspected her of being so strong...why need a bodyguard in the first place if she was? Simple precaution? Did it mean the man was even stronger? Was it the reason for their odd behavior at being in custody? Take the guy; he didn't look particularly bothered or nervous, hadn't even bothered denying being the murderer until Prentiss had come in and played his linguistic game. The woman had been impatient so far, but not worried about facing charges. They acted like they were waiting for something to happen...like they knew they wouldn't be staying. And just like that, he wondered if they were really just an illicit couple hiding away.

 

Chapter Text

 

When In Custody...

 

Part 3

 

“Tell your friends then to take down their guns and skinny kid is free.”

Hill sighed in relief in front of her screen and muttered a silent prayer she had thought of contacting Prentiss for this job. The older woman had always excelled at her job -at least, as far as Hill remembered and had she not quit at the time, perhaps Fury would have have a different Deputy...Although with her trademark I hate politics and her love of action in the field...The Deputy director chuckled and shook her head.

No-one -her included- had really understood why Prentiss had quited, but that day, SHIELD lost a very good asset. Top three sniper (behind Hawkeye and Fury according to the records), pretty good planer, more than decent actress (her poker face was awesome, but her big dark eyes were too expressive sometimes) and gifted with that odd power of observation of people around her. Profiler suited her, Hill thought, glancing at the screen where Prentiss was still faking to interrogate the Black Widow under Agent whatever-his-name-was' nose. Hell, who else would have thought of using indirectly both assassins’ codenames and the Director's to cool Romanoff down? She didn't want to think about what could have happened, had the assassin done something everyone would regret. Damn, she thought angrily, they were not going to get out of this one easily! The moment they were cleared for duty, she was so giving them a piece of her mind (and extra shitty missions along the way)!

“Lieutenant Hill!” A young agent called from behind. “Agent Coulson on line 4.”

“Transfer.” she ordered before activating the speaker. “Please tell me you have good news.”

“Depends on what you call good.” The woman groaned and rubbed her temple, bracing herself for whatever was about to come. “I think I found the serial killer.” Hill blinked and stared at the screen.

“Wait...Isn't that good news?”

“Yeah, but...he's dead.”

Phil Coulson should have expected the cold and calm 'Explain. Now'. The tone was low and threatening and made him wince. Honestly, he was as surprised as she was and a little overwhelmed by the whole situation. Danger, he was used to it. Anxiety, especially when neither Clint nor Natasha answered their coms during a particularly tense moment, he could deal with. Improvisation, he had mastered it the following weeks he had become Hawkeye's handler. And since he'd been supervising the duo, he thought he could handle any situation and nothing could surprise him anymore. He was wrong. First, their target was taken down by a serial killer before they got to him. Secondly, Hawkeye and Black Widow barely had the time to report before been busted with a bag of weapons planted in their room. Third, his former partner on the field and in his life belonged to the FBI team interrogating them. Fourth, a man had attacked him and...

“I was just walking down a dark alley...That guy was aiming for my heart when he jumped on me.” Coulson went on, staring at the body on the ground. “It was self-defense, I swear.” Hill sighed deeply.

“I believe you. I guess that means you're getting involved in this...” her voice trailed off. “Actually, I'm sorry but I'm going to have to use your past with Emily for cover.”

The man closed his eyes and took a sharp breath.

“Is that really necessary?”

“I know you don't like it, but her team is filled with profilers. If Emily is the one taking your testimony, no matter how good she is, they will notice things. I think her boss is already suspecting something. It'll be all right if an old friend shows up.” Coulson snorted.

“You know Agent Prentiss and I weren't 'just friends'. We were even more than just partners and we didn't leave on good terms.”

“Don't remind me, the final confrontation is still a legend.” she replied sarcastically. “And that's another reason why to send you; her colleagues will focus on your past relationship, now that the killer is found, instead of Hawkeye and Black Widow. Consider it a small sacrifice for the greater good.”

“Have I done something to offend you lately? Is this payback of some sorts?”

“Also, make sure Hawkeye and Black Widow don't 'recognize' you.” she added, ignoring his last question. “Keep the partners background unchanged except you were working at Interpol, leave everything else out from the moment you became Hawkeye's handler.”

“Same story, different agency. Wow, how imaginative.” he replied sarcastically.

“Gotta work with what we have and you know sticking to the truth is the best cover. Or, should I tell Barton you invented the heiress-and-bodyguard cover for this one?”

“I get it.”

“And look at the bonus; you'll get a VIP view of Barton and Romanoff fake-playing lovers if they want to keep their cover. Isn't that a dream coming true?”

“I really get it.”

 

 

The moment they closed the interrogation room's door, Prentiss turned towards Reid and asked:

“Are you all right?”

Seeing the man she considered a little brother suffocated by the ex-Russian had nearly pushed her to pull the trigger on the spot. But thanks to Hill's loud curse when she figured out what was going on, she had managed to go back in compartmentalizing mode. The woman they held in custody would not forgive weakness, and forcing Reid to stay after being halfway strangled...Prentiss hoped he understood why. The young man nodded with a small smile.

“I'll be fine.”

The relief was short-lived. Hotch's glare told her she was not escaping a tell-off with this one. Prentiss knew she had acted recklessly, and not only for the sake of their genius. Barging in and staring straight in the eye of a master assassin...well, let's say she was not fond of the experience. But looking away or backing off was not an option either. And, to her credit, it had paid off. The Black Widow had cooperated and talked: yes, she and Baker were in a relationship; yes, they had selected this place because they wouldn't be recognized; no, the weapons didn't belong to them and no, she had no idea how it had been slipped in their room. The woman was an amazing actress -Prentiss had to give her that- and judging from Reid's reaction, he was tempted to believe her. Prentiss hoped that was enough for the team to start looking elsewhere...

“Emily? We have a problem.” Hill's voice startled her again. “Coulson killed your guy accidentally.” Prentiss barely masked a 'what the...' expression. Their guy? The unsub? Coulson killed him? What did she mean? “He's going to call the cops and introduce himself as a former Interpol agent, keep your common story up till his -eh-promotion. You know what that means?” Oh hell yeah, she knew. That meant she would be facing her old partner and not hide to the team that they had history. Intimate history. Probably the best way to support the man's background, but this was really going to suck. She and Coulson hadn't left on good terms, and she'd never forget the look on his face when she bluntly spat that they were done. “Sorry to dump thaton you...But at least the case will be wrapped up soon.” She supposed that was true, but it didn't mean she had to like it.

And half an hour later, the case was indeed wrapped. Kyle Madison, son of the manager at the hotel the two assassins were lodging in, was proven guilty of the murder of ten people -all the necessary evidence was found in his basement. Hotch and Reid had left for the crime scene, Rossi had gone to inform the unsub's family of the situation, JJ dealt with the press, leaving -exactly what she dreaded- Prentiss and Morgan to deal with the testimony.

 

 

Natasha Romanoff was going to kill Barton.

That thought had helped her keep her cool the whole four hours she had been locked in the interrogation room, having to play the brainless, violent heiress on the run with her boyfriend. Well, sort of. She sighed deeply, pushing the thoughts aside. This wasn't the first time she was caught for interrogation by the police, but it was the first time she hadn't been captured on purpose, or wasn't aware of the presence of an insider to help her out. Whoever was that Agent Prentiss, how she knew about SHIELD, she did help her get back on track; reassured her somehow. Heck, even before she had opened her mouth to negotiate the skinny man's fate, Natasha had just known she wasn't an enemy. There had been something in Agent Prentiss's eyes -extremely expressive eyes, by the way- that had calmed her...and when she used Barton's special sentence to make her understand her partner was fine -she had to admire the brunette for slipping 'hit the target in the bullseye' in the middle of an interrogation and not make it sound out of place- then Natasha definitively knew the woman would help them out. She just had to be patient...

The door opened, and a black guy appeared. Agent Morgan, she recalled; not easy to forget, he was their arresting officer.

“Miss Rogers, Mr Baker, you are free to go.”

The redhead assassin barked a high-pitched 'finally' before standing up and bumping the Agent on purpose on the way out. Barton was on the other side, perfectly tensed with worry. Sometimes, she admired the perfect mask that could match hers.

“Are you alright, babe?”

Had they not been in the middle of the bullpen of locals, surrounded with cops and feds and undercover, Natasha would have thigh-choked him right here and there. But she was a professional on a job, so she let the teary-eyed wimp act out and threw herself in his arms.

“I was soooo scared, honey.” While hugging, she hid her face in his neck and whispered: “Вы так мертв" You are so dead.

“Everything's going to be all right. You're safe now.” He held her tighter for the show, then answered: “Я сказал тебе, что я извиняюсь" I told you I was sorry.

“Let's get out this hoooorrible place. Тогда я расчленить вы" Then I will dismember you.

“Of course, honey, of course. Если мы выживем Hill в первую очередь." If we survive Hill first.

He slipped an arm around her waist and they headed towards the exit. On their way out, she purposely stepped hard on his foot. Barton hid the grimace by kissing her temple. They were at the door when she noted that Coulson was in the bullpen too, talking with a cop and having a great deal of trouble not looking at them and hiding his smirk. Their handler must not have missed a second of their show. She glared at him at a distance and allowed her boyfriend to take her away.

 

 

Something was off with Prentiss, Morgan could sense it. The whole investigation had worn the team out and played on their nerves, no surprises there. But from the moment they had caught that couple, her behavior had been odd, like, how determined she was to lead these interviews. Fine, Hotch had commended her for the first one, but she did insist for the second. Then, the fact she had gotten anywhere with them, even though Rossi had tried to coax a reaction out of the man unsuccessfully. The way the suspects had reacted and given in a tad bit too easily in his mind...But then, that couple was weird to begin with. And most important, their killer was dead. Still, he couldn't understand the cold feet when it came to taking that guy's testimony.

His cell phone rang and he immediately recognized the caller.

“Hey baby girl.”

“Hey hot stuff.” the happy, excited voice of Penelope Garcia answered. “You are never, ever going to guess what I found!” The Agent rolled his eyes, but smiled indulgently.

“You got me there.”

“Weeell, you, my little chocolate muffin, are first in line to assist at some drama unfolding. See that guy who accidentally killed the un-sub? He's working at Interpol.” Morgan frowned:

“Yeah, we know that. So what?”

“Well, well, where was Emily working nine years ago?” the man's frown deepened.

“With the JT12? Taking down Doyle?”

“Yeah, but before that? At Interpol! Philip Coulson, age fifty one, single and excellent agent used to be Emily's partner!”

“Oh.”

“And that's not all...according to the paper I'm reading right now, she and Coulson were more than just partners. They are married!” Morgan blinked; what?

“They are married? She never said...”

“Oh, never mind, it was only for one week, in Vegas.” Her voice dropped in disappointment. “I guess that was just one drunken mistake or for cover...”

“Hey, Morgan?” Across the room, Prentiss was waving at him to join her. Their guy was waiting to be interviewed and according to his general stance, uncomfortable. The African-American bid goodbye to the technical analyst and hung up before hurrying to join them. So, he thought, that guy was his partner's...ex-partner and potential boyfriend? Interesting...

“Agent Derek Morgan” he introduced himself, handing out his hand. “Thank you for coming, this shouldn't take long.”

“Agent Philip Coulson” the man replied with a stern, but easy-going smile. “And no problem; I guess it's just fate bringing me here on a day off.” Prentiss rolled her eyes. “Yes Emily, I do take days-off from time to time.”

Morgan's attention snapped right at his colleague and stared at her pointedly. The brunette stared right back at him.

“Don't pretend you don't know he was my partner back at Interpol. And I'm pretty sure Garcia updated you on that one incident in Vegas. And it's Agent Prentiss, Agent Coulson.” Both men winced at her snappy tone and imperturbable eyes. “Now let's do this.”

They all went in the closest room and sat around the table. Everyone acted professionally in spite of the tension reigning in the background. The deposition was taken quickly and ready to be filed, and after Morgan thanked the man for coming in, when they stood up to leave the room...“Em -Agent Prentiss, can I talk with you for a second?”

The woman tensed noticeably. Morgan threw her a questioning glance before she nodded and he left, even though he didn't feel at ease doing so. At first, he had thought he'd have his fun and tease the woman a little bit, but given her reaction, this was a touchy subject. Not that the man looked particularly aggressive and Prentiss was more than capable of taking care of herself. The agent glanced at the room again and realized they were in the interrogation room...so there was a possibility of listening to them on the other side. He hesitated, knowing his partner would have his head if she ever found out, but he was worried. So, as his friend, he pushed the next door and crossed his arms in front of the one-way window. The two agents were facing each other, both in defensive position. Well, Prentiss was defensive and Coulson looked more forward, but still holding back.

“Whatever you’ve got to say, say it quick. I've actually got work to do.”

Her voice was firm, tense. She did not want to be there. Damn, maybe he shouldn't have left her alone after all...

“I...I just want to know if you're alright.” Clumsy tone, intimidated attitude; he didn't expect the blunt behavior. “I mean, it's been a while since I've seen you...”

“Maybe there's a reason why.” Ouch, Morgan knew that tone, she was not happy. “Maybe I didn't want to see you.”

“Listen, I know we parted on bad terms...”

“Sure we did. I needed you to be there but you just had to jump on that plane and run away from me.” Her irritated tone turned into a growl. “Now you listen. We might have had something nice, heck, we were rather good. But don't think for a second that I've forgiven you.” She swallowed hard and added: “You are going to get out of this building and never try to 'see me' again. I moved on with my life, and I wish you the best for yours. Now out.”

The man looked like he wanted to add something, but seeing how pissed she looked, he merely nodded and walked out of the room. Prentiss sighed and rubbed her temples, sign of an upcoming headache, and Morgan wondered what had really happened between the two. Whatever it had been must have been intense because their Prentiss was the queen of compartmentalization and rarely showed obvious signs of tiredness. After a quick inner debate, he decided that if she ever needed a shoulder to cry on, she'd know where to find one. Right now, he would let her have some privacy. So when he stepped out of the room and came across the rest of the team, he stopped them from looking for her. As her current partner and friend, he figured he could do as much. Still, didn't mean she'd escape the interrogation later.

 

Chapter Text

 

When in Custody

Part 4

Night was falling slowly and when the clock hit eleven, Prentiss decided to call it a night. Morgan had unfortunately overcome his reserve concerning her former relationship with Coulson and after spilling it to the whole team, had given her no rest teasing her about it. She had to make up some stupid albeit believable anecdotes to back it up before the team decided to let it go.

It wasn't especially cold outside, but she still pulled the layers of her coat closer. Good thing the hotel wasn't that far away. She had shared the car with Morgan and Reid on their way to the bar, and the hotel was barely over twenty minutes by foot but she still wished...She was halfway through, when Prentiss finally felt his presence. So, she grunted in relief, stopped in her tracts and turned around, arms crossed and smirked.

"You do know I chose to walk instead of waiting for your call and meeting you in a dark alley, so how long were you going to wait before showing up, Phil?"

Coulson stepped out of the shadows of a nearby building and smiled:

"I see you didn't lose everything from your time at SHIELD." Prentiss shrugged.

"Not sure I'd survive the training anymore, but sensing people approaching? I'm doing okay most of the time." She nodded towards the roofs. "I assume Barton and his partner took off?"

"It's not quite safe for them to wander around, especially since your team is still nearby, but yeah, they had no trouble slipping out of town. I'm here to take the communicators back. When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow around eight am. Hotch -I mean, our Unit Chief- thought it'd be better if we got a full night's rest before going home." She said as she pulled the small earpieces out of her pocket and handed them to him. "I guess that means we'll have a new case the moment we get back."

"Okay. Just for a head's up, you might get a visitor tonight. Hill wanted to thank you personally before you left." Prentiss raised an eyebrow.

"Really? I thought she'd be too busy planning a slow and painful death for Barton and...whatever her name is."

"Agent Romanoff, the Black Widow. Believe me, I don't want to be in their shoes; Maria is way scarier than Fury sometimes." Both smirked. "But yeah, you did her -us- a huge favor, and she'd like to thank you for that." Pause. "I think she also wants to catch up a bit. You two were good friends back then."

"We were" Prentiss agreed. "I'm just glad she still trusts me enough to call me." her fingers played with her necklace nervously. "Phil..."

"I know that tone Emily." the agent cut softly. "And sincerely, it's fine. Everything happened nine years ago."

"I'm still sorry."

"I know. I held on my word, you know. Never told anyone why you decided to leave. Not even Hill...I'm sorry for the way Barton treated you in the interrogation room."

"Really, Phil, I just barged out of your lives without looking back! I'm not surprised Barton's angry, heck you should be loathing me instead of chatting with me amiably."

"I did hate you for a while. Almost quit too. Maria managed to knock some sense into me though." He paused, took a deep breath, and added slowly: "Looking back, I should be apologizing. I could have handled the situation better. I just didn't understand what you were going through; I guess I was just angry you didn't tell me."

A small smile grew over Prentiss' lips.

"So we are going to keep apologizing to each other?"

"We could call it even."

"Suits me, even if I still don't deserve it." Coulson rolled his eyes.

"Nine years, Emily" he reminded her. "And that's not what you were saying earlier." The woman cleared her throat and smiled, a little embarrassed.

"Yeah well, I figured Morgan would be watching out for me so I needed to lash out a bit." Her eye twinkled. "But it worked, didn't it? They forgot everything about Barton and Romanoff and I got questioned all evening about our relationship; why you were a jerk and if you needed to be taught a lesson.."

The man winced.

"Awesome. Now I have the BAU on my back. What did you tell them?"

She shrugged.

"That, at the time, you were a total guy and I was stupid enough to ignore it. But that you had the potential of growing nicer, so infecting your computer with viruses or breaking your car on my account was unnecessary."

"You have lovely friends." he replied blankly. Prentiss smirked.

"Speaking of friends...are Barton and his partner doing the deed?" Coulson gawked at her. She rolled her eyes and added: "C'mon, I helped them out, I can gather a bit of gossip even if I have no-one to share it with."

"They are not. Plus they're spies and master assassins; if they were sleeping together and didn't want me to know it, I wouldn't."

"Phil, you have been his handler about ten years. You can tell these kind of things."

“Which is why I am saying they aren't in a relationship.”

She stared at him, checking his face for an eventual lie. When she couldn't find anything betraying his words, she shrugged and went on:

“Whatever. But you do realize they are not banging yet, they will cross that line eventually.” Coulson rolled his eyes. “Seriously Phil, remind me how many years they’ve been partners?”

"Six."

"Now I doubt an assassin with the codename 'Black Widow' would put up with a guy she didn't like; and when was the last time Barton looked at a woman the way he looks at Black Widow? Heck, Barton and I had UST issues when we first met, almost slept together and he never looked at me that way." Coulson blinked.

"I didn't know about that..." he started warily. Prentiss shrugged.

"We were drunk after a bad case we had partnered on and made out a bit before realizing how much it would suck the next morning. That was before you and I started dating, so I figured it wasn't necessary to mention it." She glanced at him. "Don't tell him I told you. He knew you'd be hurt if...well he figured out your feelings for me before I did and didn't want you to see him as competition of some sorts. My point is, they are close." He raised an eyebrow.

"And how does that concerns you exactly?"

"Gossip." she blurted with a smirk. "And also, work dynamic changes when you are involved with someone, you know that first-hand." Coulson nodded, feeling she had something more than just gossip-seeking intentions behind her words. "Just make sure they know what they're doing."

"You're suggesting I should take action and separate them if they are..."

"No. I'm saying make sure they know where they stand. No lies, no secrets and no holding back. They're a good pair, it would be...unfortunate if personal mixed with professional." She stared at him straight in the eye. "Don't let them repeat the mistake we made."

"No need to tell me." he paused. "Those two had gone through worse than you and I...the context is different."

"Believe me, no matter your past, relationships always turn around the same way. I've been in this job long enough to realize it." she said with a little smile. "I just want you guys to be happy." Pause. "And spare you a massive headache if they end up sour."

"I have a feeling you're more like looking out for Barton. And you're telling me you never felt anything for him? Strong, reliable, a little crazy...totally your type." Coulson teased.

"I might have had a little crush on him back then." she admitted with a shrug, then added with a flashing smirk: "But I did end up dating you, didn't I?"

---

"Aaron?"

Hotch blinked and lifted his head. Rossi was approaching him, a brand new glass of beer in hand. Hotch sighed and stared back at his own drink.

"Something's been bothering you?" The unit Chief was about to deny it, but the Italian-American man added: "You've been wondering about something the whole evening. You barely touched your glass." When his friend didn't answer, Rossi took the closest chair and went on: "C'mon Aaron, it's past eleven, everyone's off to bed and we are taking off at 8am. Just tell me."

"Don't you think something was off?" Hotch wondered, staring at his friend intensely. "Everything happening after we arrested that couple, after Prentiss started talking to Mr Baker. He tested her before talking; while he completely ignored you. Why was it different with Emily?"

"You mean, you had the feeling he would only interact with her?"

"They spoke in foreign languages." Hotch went on, ignoring his friend. "Miss Rogers warmed up to her immediately even though she had taken Reid hostage seconds before." He stared at Rossi and muttered: "Didn't you have that feeling? That something odd was going on right under our noses?"

Rossi held his gaze a full minute before sighing.

"You think Emily and the suspects knew each other? That they were having a hidden conversation?"

"She busted in the room when Rogers almost choked Reid. She told Rogers: 'if you do twist his neck' before Rogers even finished her sentence, like she knew what would happen. She was reckless and..."

"And she saved Reid and led the interview without another hitch." Hotch didn't reply. "Aaron, the killer was accidentally killed by an Interpol agent in self-defense. That couple had nothing to do with the murders."

"If they had nothing to hide, they should have come clean from the start. Listen," Hotch said more firmly. "They have been switching between Greek, Russian and God knows what and we didn't have a translator nearby to support what Prentiss was saying."

"Wow, wait a minute, you think Emily lied to us?" Hotch's lips formed a thin line.

"It wouldn't be the first time." he stated slowly. Rossi shook his head, knowing he was remembering Doyle.

"It was different, Hotch. She lied and fled to protect us from a dangerous criminal." The man stared at Rossi intensely, and he caught his stream of thought. "So you think those guys were dangerous enough for her to hide their real identities to us?"

Hotch sighed deeply and stared tiredly at his glass.

"Maybe I'm overanalyzing it." he muttered. "Our guy is dead, that couple was peculiar but...it doesn't mean they are criminals, right?"

"Aren't you more worried about your date with Prentiss?" Hotch didn't bother asking how the older man knew; they hadn't been exactly discreet back in the bullpen. "Or the fact she use to date Interpol Agent Coulson?" Hotch's hand clenched his glass and his eyes hardened.

"Not really."

"Liar." Rossi called out casually. "But it's obvious, she really likes you; you don't have to worry."

"If you say so." the other man muttered, but the edges of his eyes softened. "You're right; I should go back to the hotel, we're leaving early tomorrow." he stood up, put his tab on the table and left waving a small goodbye.

Rossi's smile fell when Hotch walked out of the bar, and it was his turn to stare at his glass pensively. He didn't want to admit it out loud to his friend, but he too thought Prentiss' behavior hadn't been natural. Like, she was trying too hard...He had thought his old mind was playing tricks; she hadn't acted out of the ordinary tonight; had laughed, had grimaced, had teased and pouted. But for some reason, he thought she had also looked...relieved. And now that Hotch shared his suspicions...

Maybe it was nothing, but he needed to be sure. Leaving a generous tip behind him, Rossi stepped out of the bar and headed to police headquarters. He would make a copy of the record of the interviews and send it to a linguist friend of his. If Emily had a hidden conversation using another language with the guy, he would know. But when he arrived at the station...

"I'm sorry sir, those tapes are not available." Rossi blinked in surprise.

"Not available? Why?"

The cop shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

"I'm sorry, there was a small fire in the evidence room earlier tonight. Some rookie went there to smoke a cig and...well, the ashes weren't burned out. He was fired right away, of course" the man added quickly. "But the records were...well, luckily only the ones of the past few days were destroyed. All the physical evidence was left untouched, but the tapes and paperwork..."

"I get it" Rossi interrupted, frowning. "Thank you."

As he left the police station, thoughts started spinning in his head. He didn't believe in coincidences. This couldn't be one. A few hours after their suspects were released, every trace of them was erased. So you think those guys were dangerous enough for her to hide their real identities to us? Maybe Hotch and he were right after all...

---